


Ultima Thule

by GloriaMundi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Gen, Steve Falls, fork in the road
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 01:16:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5072338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriaMundi/pseuds/GloriaMundi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We've lost Captain America, and we can't let his body fall into the hands of our enemies."</p><p>"And Sergeant Barnes," said Peggy Carter, eyes lowered as though that'd fool anyone. "He fell, too."</p><p>Three scenes, Howard's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ultima Thule

"Mr Stark," said Colonel Phillips heavily. "Not only has Arnim Zola escaped our clutches _again_ , but we've lost a vital asset. We've lost Captain America, and we can't let his body fall into the hands of our enemies." 

"And Sergeant Barnes," said Peggy Carter, eyes lowered as though that'd fool anyone. "He fell, too." 

Phillips gestured impatiently. "Soldiers -- even good ones like Barnes -- are a dime a dozen. Steve Rogers cost us a -- a heck of a lot more than that." 

"And he was worth every penny," said Peggy. Now she was letting Phillips see the unshed tears in her eyes. Under less solemn circumstances, Howard would've crowed with gleeful admiration. What a woman! 

"We know where he -- where they fell?" he asked the Colonel. 

"Yes we do. Dernier can give you the coordinates. It won't be a cakewalk, Stark. If anyone on that train saw Captain America fall, they'll be swarming all over like ants on a dead dog." Peggy swallowed hard. "Begging your pardon, ma'am." Phillips cleared his throat. "Anyway, it's imperative that we recover the body. Bodies. If the Nazis get ahold of him --" 

"I'll do my best, sir," promised Howard Stark. 

* 

Barnes was in the hospital, pretty knocked up: but alive, which was frankly a bloody miracle. He'd lose that arm, and Howard already had a few sketches of the kind of prosthetic limb he'd always wanted a reason to work on. Broken ribs, cracked skull, multiple fractures in both legs. But Sergeant Barnes must have the luck of the devil, because he'd survived a fall that would have killed any other man. 

Unless that man was Captain America, who -- with only a few yellowing bruises to show for three hundred feet of thin air and a rocky ravine at the end of his fall -- was badgering Stark to track this Schmidt character. 

"The latest word is that he's got a planeload of bombs. I swear, Stark, if you can't drop me behind the lines then I'll commandeer a bike and make my own way." 

"Now, now, Captain," said Howard. "It's only a week since we scraped the two of you out of that godforsaken valley. Why don't you sit back, take a rest, let your body heal itself?" 

Actually, there was a thing. He'd observed Steve Rogers' accelerated healing any number of times -- the guy was still kinda clumsy, like a gawky boy who'd shot up six inches overnight and didn't quite know where to find his limbs -- so it was no great surprise that Captain America had discharged himself from the hospital within forty-eight hours. But _Barnes_ , now: he hadn't had Erskine's damned serum, and he was healing faster than anyone expected. 

"Or you could wait for Sergeant Barnes' recovery," Howard suggested. Yep, there was Rogers' famous blush. "Bet he'd be happier going with you than being left behind again." 

"Too damn right I would," came Barnes' voice from the upper level of the workshop: and damned if he wasn't hauling himself along on crutches. 

"It _was_ only last week you took a fall, wasn't it?" said Howard mildly. 

"Gotta keep an eye on this lunk," said Barnes, jerking his chin at Rogers. "Never know what he'll get up to, without me to back him up." 

*

"Come in, this is Captain Rogers, do you read me?" 

It was Jim Morita's shift on comms, so he got there first. "Captain Rogers, what is your --" 

Howard went for the radio too, but Barnes -- of course -- got there first. (Privately, Howard thought Barnes would've managed just fine if he'd been allowed to go after Schmidt too. Sheer cussedness would get a guy a long way: and Sergeant Barnes had cussedness to spare when it came to Steve Rogers. But the Colonel had vetoed Barnes' involvement -- "Too much of a risk, the state you're in" -- and Rogers had backed him up. Turned out there was one man Barnes _would_ listen to -- even if he'd been sulking ever since.)) 

"Steve? You okay? What kept you?" Barnes looked _terrified_ , but you couldn't hear a scrap of it in his voice. 

"Bucky, Schmidt's dead!" came Rogers' voice over the radio.

Howard edged in beside Barnes, careful of the crutches. "What about the plane?" he asked. 

"That's a little bit tougher to explain," said Rogers.

"Give your coordinates," said Howard. "I'll find you a safe landing site."

"There's not gonna be a safe landing," said Rogers through the hiss of static. "I can try and force it down." 

"The hell you can!" said Barnes. "Rogers, I mean it. Don't make me come after you." 

"There's not enough time, Buck! This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York. I gotta put her in the water." 

"I --" began Barnes.

"Nonsense," said Peggy Carter briskly, moving to bracket Barnes' other side. "There's no need for that, Steve. Give us your coordinates: Howard's here, he'll talk you through the landing. Then all you have to do is sit tight and we'll come and get you." 

"Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are gonna die." 

"Steve Rogers," said Barnes, his eyes glittering with ... rage? distress? "Will you just shut the _fuck_ up and let us help?"

Silence from the radio.

"Captain Rogers," said Howard, "are your instruments working?" 

"Some of 'em," said Rogers. He sounded shaky. "Altitude just about ... eight thousand feet. Bearing two hundred, latitude seventy-eight degrees forty-two minutes north, longitude sixty-eight forty-nine west." A pause, a breath. "Can't tell the air speed. She's fast. But half the engines are out." 

"Piece of cake," said Howard, with more confidence than he felt. "I'll radio Bluie to send out a patrol. Now, adjust your bearing to one-eighty ..." 

Barnes reached over his shoulder and hit the 'transmit' button. "For real?" His voice was raw. 

"For real," said Howard Stark. "Get your kit together, Sergeant Barnes. You're going to Thule." 

**Author's Note:**

> More research!
> 
> [1968 Thule bomber crash](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1968_Thule_Air_Base_B-52_crash)  
> [Thule air base](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thule_Air_Base)  
> [Bluie](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bluie)  
> Google maps, comparing and contrasting to the brief shot of Steve's instruments during the crash scene  
> 


End file.
